Healing Hands
by TEAnCRRRUMPETS
Summary: She isn't sure what to do when he arrives on her doorstep, bleeding. And yet, she soon falls for him. What will go on in the week in which he is staying with her. Finished, sequel planned.
1. I

She still didn't understand why he was there. They had been enemies for twenty years, and yet that seemed to have melted away, because they were now lying beside one another. She stroked his cheek softly. He stirred for a moment, but his eyes stayed shut. She snuggled down under the covers, her head resting on his chest. She tried to figure out at which point throughout the week's events had ended her hatred for him.

* * *

He knocked on her door in the pouring rain. He was completely soaked. His green pullover was ripped towards the bottom, and he held his hand to his side. Blood seeped through his fingers and down onto his black trousers. He passed out and fell to the floor. She hurried to help him. She knew who he was, but there was too much blood on his hands to think about her hatred for him.

She quickly muttered _Mobilicorpus_ and laid him on her sofa. After this was done, she hurriedly muttered all the spells she knew that would deal with the wound. The wound was now considerably smaller, but was still bleeding. She rushed into the bathroom and returned with Muggle bandages. Slowly, she began bandaging him up, taking a lot of care not to aggravate the wound. Soon, he was almost as good as new. The bleeding had almost stopped.

His clothes were still soaking, and he was certain to catch a cold. With slight hesitation, the clothes were soon off and drying. She moved him to her warm bed. She decided she would spend the night watching over him.

* * *

As the world around him grew lighter with the Sun's appearance, he awoke. He viewed his unfamiliar surroundings. The walls were a pale blue. The double bed in which he lay had matching coloured sheets. The curtains, also that blue, he noted, were open. The view of the sunrise was beautiful from here. Whoever owned the house was a very lucky person. Underneath the window was a desk, strewn with balls of parchment, quills, and ink bottles. To his right were wardrobes made of what looked like oak or mahogany, and by the side of the bed was a bedside table. Towards the far right of the room was a door, he thought could lead into a walk-in wardrobe. He looked to his left, and saw a bedside table, a chair towards the corner of the room and another door. On the bedside table was a mirror. He lifted it up to look at himself. His blond hair was scruffy and falling in his eyes, which looked very steely in colour this time of the morning. He reached down to get his wand from his pocket to adjust his appearance.

It was at this point he realised his was unclothed. The door on his left opened. A young woman stood in the doorway. She was clutching a cup of coffee, and her dressing gown was wrapped around her. As she walked towards him, he took her in. She wasn't ugly; in fact she was quite pretty. Her hair was set in curls the colour of chocolate and her eyes were like cinnamon. He noted that she had a curvaceous body. She handed him the coffee and he saw a wedding ring on her finger. He nodded at her to say thank you. She acknowledged the nod with one of her own, before sitting in the chair.

"Morning, Malfoy," Hermione said, almost cheerfully. "Have a good sleep? You had a pretty rough night last night."


	2. II

Draco nearly choked on his coffee. What did she mean, "_You had a rough night last night._"? What had happened with the two of them? He didn't sleep with Mudblood Granger, did he? He thought it best to respond.

"Granger, please tell me you're kidding."

"Oh, no, I'm serious, Malfoy. There's still something you owe me." She looked at him expectantly.

How could he have been so stupid? How drunk was he last night? To go home with an ex Gryffindor was shameful enough, but a Mudblood?

"Granger, I might have slept with you last night, but I was very drunk, so don't expect any more now that I'm sober."

Hermione began to laugh softly.

"You thought… I knew you had a one-track mind! I'm actually waiting for a thank you. I saved your life last night."

He chuckled.

"I don't know what you're on about Granger, I'm – Ouch!" Draco had tried sitting up and his side was aching. He ran his hand down to the area in pain and saw bandages. "Ah…" he said.

"Be careful."

"Merlin… I remember what happened now."

"What?" Hermione leaned forward in her chair a little.

Reluctantly, Draco began to explain.

"It was another Friday night in the Three Broomsticks. I sat at the bar, relaxing with a tumbler of Odgen's FireWhiskey, my fifth of the evening. A wizard sat beside me, and we started to talk.

This wizard began to talk about a story in the Daily Prophet about a wizard who was put to death after he had been plotting inside Azkaban with his fellow inmates." Draco paused for a moment.

"I'm sure you know which death I mean. Anyway, the plot was to bring Voldemort back, and the wizard, my own father Lucius. I've never liked my father, this was something even you knew, but to hear another wizard saying how he deserved to die, hearing the things that were said about my father, it hurt. I wanted this wizard to feel my pain. Instead, I asked him if we could change the subject. He accused me of being a Death Eater. As if I would allow myself to follow an ancient relic who was always beaten by Potter and his golden boy Weasel?"

Hermione's eyes lowered as she heard Ron's horrible nickname.

"Don't mention them again."

Draco glanced at her strangely, but continued.

"So I told him the reason I wanted him to stop talking about it, and this only seemed to fuel his belief that I was as evil as my father. By this time, I'd had about seven FireWhiskeys, and I was pissed off. I started threatening him, telling him to back off, and the next thing I know, I've been hit with a Diffendo charm! Who would have thought a simple charm could do so much damage?"

"I ran from the Three Broomsticks, I ran until I was past all the shops, and then I found your place. I knocked, and then I don't remember anything after that."

"You passed out after I opened the door. And then I took you in and fixed you up." Hermione said quietly.

"Ah…" Draco said.

"Yes. Now for some more bad news," Hermione began. Draco looked puzzled again. "You're going to have to stay here until you're healed up. Don't look at me like that. It's standard procedure. It should take about a week."

"But…"

"No buts. I'm going to make some breakfast. Do you think you can walk down the stairs?"

"Yes."

"Good. How do you like your eggs?"

"However you cook them is fine."


	3. III

Twenty minutes later, Draco, albeit with slight difficulty, was stood in Hermione's living room. He walked around. On her mantelpiece were many photos. Harry, Ron and Hermione were the main focus of the photos, snowball fighting, clubbing, on holiday. In the centre, however, was a very different photo. Draco picked it up to look more closely.

Hermione was stood in what appeared to be a wedding dress, with Ron by her side. He had his arms around her, and, every now and then, the two would sneak a kiss.

"My, my…" Draco whispered.

"Malfoy!" Hermione called from the kitchen. "It's ready."

* * *

Draco placed the picture back in its place, and made his way to the kitchen.

Hermione dished up eggs, bacon and sausages onto two plates, and took them to the table. As she placed Draco's down, she saw him look at her wedding ring. She quickly pulled her hand back, and sat down to eat.

"Where's you're husband then, Granger? Run off with a Pureblood? Suppose you didn't tell him you were Muggle born until after the marriage?"

Hermione had gone very silent.

"Well? Where is he?" Draco pressed.

"That's none of your concern."

"I'm curious. Enlighten me. I'm going to need a lot of entertaining until I get better."

Hermione sighed.

"Why do you want to know so much?"

"Like I said, I need the entertainment."

"He's dead, Malfoy. Is that good enough for entertainment? Ron died so that scum like your father and his friends would rot in Azkaban!"

It was Draco's turn to become silent.

"What's wrong, Kneazle got your tongue, Malfoy? It's alright for you to badmouth my dead husband but I can't dare do it to you?"

"How long ago did he die?"

"Why?"

"Just answer me."

"Three years ago."

"So why do you still wear his wedding ring? He's DEAD Granger, so you should just get over it, like the rest of us have to!"

Hermione burst into tears. He looked at her, feeling guilty for causing her pain. She had stopped his sufferingbeing more painful than it had to be, after all.

"That…that was out of order." He said plainly.

Nothing came from Hermione but sobs. Draco had to try to calm her down.

"Granger, you're not a filthy Mudblood… And Ron… He's only dead if you forget about him."

She looked up at him, wiping her eyes.

"Thank you, Malfoy."

She got up and made her way to the bathroom, wiping her eyes.

* * *

The rest of the day passed quietly, the two trying to keep out of each other's way. At dinner, Draco broke the silence.

"I…I hope you don't mind, but I had a look at the photos in the living room."

"That's fine."

"They're really good…"

"And also full of dead people."

"Potter…" An icy glance from Hermione made Draco stop. "Harry too?"

"Yes. Same day as Ron."

Silence.

"I can sleep on the sofa tonight."

"No, it's fine, I will."

"Granger, I've kicked you out of your own bed. Let me sleep on the sofa."

"Damn you, Malfoy! You are going to sleep in my room and that is that."


	4. IV

The next morning, Draco was woken by a loud ringing.

"What?" He sat up sharply, and promptly cursed. "What do you want?"

"Time to get up. Breakfast will only be toast, I'm going to visit Ron's grave. I expect you to stay here."

"Yes, Granger."

* * *

Draco ate his toast quietly, and, when Hermione left, he waved goodbye. As soon as she was gone, he took a bowl of water, and muttered something over it. In an instant, he had the graveyard in view. Hermione's face looked wrenched with pain as she first sat beside the grave of her best friend, Harry Potter, and then that of her late husband. He looked on in amazement. In all his twenty-six years, he had never seen anyone with as much compassion, and love in their heart as he saw in Hermione Granger's. _I suppose it should be Weasley now, since she's a married woman._

Hermione moved to a third grave now. It was a small grave.

"They had a child that died…" Draco whispered, almost as though he thought she could hear him.

Hermione's body was racked with sobs as she lay flowers down for her little child. It pained him to see that. He took the bowl to the sink and poured the water down the sink.

* * *

When Hermione returned, she found the house clean, and Draco lying on the sofa, a book in his hand. The distinct smell of chicken and mushroom pie came from the kitchen.

"Back, Granger?" he called over his book. She looked weary, like she had been crying all day.

"You cleaned?" she looked around in disbelief.

"I might be a Malfoy, but I do know how to clean, Granger."

She paused.

"Okay, cleaning I understand, but cooking?"

"I do live on my own now, remember?" He rose. "Now, where do you keep the dinnerware?"

* * *

"Why did you do all this, Draco?" Hermione said, using his name for the first time.

"Because, Hermione," he paused. "You saved my life. I have a wizard's debt to you. I thought I should start now." He started to clear the table. "Don't go anywhere, there's dessert to come."

Hermione looked up at him. "I hope you don't mind, but I think I'll sit out of dessert."

"Why? I've got to all this trouble!"

"I'm full," she stated bluntly. "I've got work to do." She rose from her seat, and made her way into the living room.

Draco muttered a cleaning spell, and within minutes, the washing up was done.

"Granger, what is wrong with you?"

"Nothing. I have work to do."

"Fine, have it your way." Draco sat on the sofa, retrieving the book he was reading before.

* * *

The two were silent for most of evening. Draco found he was very distracted. His eyes kept flickering towards Hermione's back, as she was huddled over the desk. Her hair was up, today, but that didn't stop it from falling in beautiful chocolate curls. Every now and then, he made to get up and talk to her, but he decided against it.

Hermione wrote for hours in silence. She knew he kept looking at her, but she didn't give him the satisfaction of talking to him. She knew she seemed ungrateful. He had made her a wonderful dinner, and she had thrown it back in his face by not eating dessert. She couldn't help it. She still didn't trust him, even in his weakened state.

"I'm going to bed." Draco's voice broke her trail of thoughts.

"Goodnight."

* * *

Draco lay in the bed, unable to sleep. He glanced at the watch on his wrists. 3am. He rolled over again. Suddenly, he heard footsteps come from downstairs. _Probably Hermione,_ he thought, and closed his eyes.

After a few minutes silence, the door opened. Draco pretended to be asleep. Hermione slipped over to the empty side of the bed.

"Draco? Are you awake?"

Draco turned over.

"Yes."

"Do you mind if I slept on top of the covers? It's just that… The sofa isn't very comfortable…"

Draco was unsure of what to say. _It is her house, _he thought. _And you know she won't try anything on, Mudblood or not._

"Sure."

Hermione climbed onto the bed, over the covers as she had said, and soon fell asleep. Draco watched her, the peacefulness on her face. _Why couldn't she have been a Pureblood? She would have made a brilliant Slytherin_, he thought. _Such a shame, beauty and brains are wasted on Muggleborns, most of the time. Not on her though._ Draco was shocked by what had just come to mind._ What in the Wizarding World am I thinking? She's a Mudblood, for Merlin's sake. She could never fit the Malfoy status! Could she?_


	5. V

When Hermione awoke, she was wrapped in arms. Big, strong arms. She leaned back onto a hard chest.

"Ron…"

Hermione turned over. She looked up to see Draco's face. A curse escaped her mouth, and she wriggled out from the embrace.

"Granger, wait." Hermione cursing had woken him up.

"No."

"I can explain."

"Go on then. I would love to hear what your excuse is."

Draco sat up in bed.

"Last night, you came to sleep on top of the covers. That's where you awoke this morning."

"That doesn't sound like an excuse, Malfoy."

"I haven't finished. You were crying and shaking. I tried to wake you up, but nothing. I'm not very good at comforting, but I know from personal experience a hug helps. So that's what I did. Nothing else to it."

Hermione looked at her feet. She tried to say something, but nothing came out.

"Now, Granger, do you think I could get changed?"

"Oh." Hermione had suddenly regained her voice. "If you don't want to wear the clothes you've been in for the past couple of days, I can get you some of Ron's things…"

"Yes. I think that would be best."

"I'll just get some." Hermione walked towards the door on the far right of the room. At the very back sat a dust-covered trunk.

"_Alohamora."_ The trunk opened. Inside were clothes she had not seen for over three years. As she lifted out a dark blue pullover and black trousers, she closed her eyes. _Ron wore this the night he proposed,_ she thought.

* * *

"I knew from the moment I saw you, well not consciously knew, just felt all tingly when you sat with us that day on the train." His eyes were fixed on hers.

"Oh, shut up, Ron!" Hermione giggled.

"'Mione, I'm trying to be romantic here! Anyway. I didn't really work out how I felt about you 'til fourth year, when you went to the Yule Ball with Krum. I was so jealous, and, to be honest, I hated the way I felt. It wasn't until the rumour that started in seventh year. You remember the one, when Parvati said that you were in love with someone from out year. I hoped to Merlin that it was me. I made up my mind. I had to ask you. I picked the day before Graduation. When you told me that it was me, I couldn't believe it!"

"Oh, Ron…" she whispered. Ron rose from the table, and made his way over to her side. He took her hand and got down on one knee. Hermione gasped. People in the restaurant were looking at them.

"I never want to stop loving you. Will you do me the honour of becoming a Weasley? I know we don't have much, but we have love and family, and that's really strong in us, and even though we don't have much money –" Ron was silenced by lips pressing on his own quickly.

"Of course I'll marry you!"


	6. VI

Hermione was brought back from her memory by arms wrapping themselves around her. She was conscious of tears falling on her cheeks.

"Granger… I want you to take deep breaths," Draco whispered in her ear. "It'll help to calm you down." She complied. His thumbs brushed her cheeks, wiping away her tears. They moved down to her shoulders, massaging them gently.

"Why are you doing this?" She turned to look at him, and noticed he had hurriedly put his trousers on, but his pullover lay forgotten somewhere in the room. His chest was smooth, hairless, unlike Ron's, and his stomach was taut, something that obviously came from hours in a gym. _Funny_, she thought, t_hat I could be thinking of such things about someone I so openly despised. But do I despise him anymore? He's so different now, so caring. But he's still a Malfoy. Why does he have to be so handsome?_

"Because it helps," he replied. "Now if you turn around again, I can carry on."

"I don't mean the massage. I mean this. The caring bit."

"Because… I never had anyone there when my father died, or when I lost someone I loved." He looked away from her.

"Who? How?"

"It doesn't matter who or how."

"Tell me?"

"As long as you don't judge."

* * *

"It was in the summer, before the end of the war. I'd managed to get away to Italy. I love it there, and I was going to meet Anna-Maria. I had been dying to see her, but hadn't been able to get away. All the way there, all I could think about was asking her to marry me. By the time I saw her, I was a jittering wreck. 

She was standing there, her flowing, curly black hair pulled up into a ponytail, green eyes glittering. Her features were brought out perfectly by her dress, emerald, low-cut and figure-hugging.

Our time together was brief however. I had asked her to marry me, and not a week later, she was killed by Death Eaters. I was in shock. Her father had refused to join the Death Eaters, and as punishment, they killed his daughter. But they had not only punished her father; they had punished me.

I hunted down every last one who killed her. I wanted revenge for her."

* * *

Now it was Hermione who was holding Draco. His tears fell down his face, and she wiped them away.

"I've never told anyone this before." Hermione began. "When I found out about how and why Ron and Harry died, I wanted to end it all myself.

They had been fighting against Voldemort. The two of them knew that we at the Ministry were rushed off our feet, and had heard me saying that we hoped that Voldemort would meet his ends soon, and took it upon themselves to track him down, and try to kill him.

The battle, I was told, was quick, all three uttering the Killing Curse within moments. Voldemort had been stopped, but at such a great loss.

Ron and I had buried our only child, a lovely five year old girl called Ophelia, barely a month before. I was so shocked, and hurt."

"Merlin, Hermione…" Draco whispered. He was surprised that he had used her first name, and that she had stayed so calm throughout her retelling of loosing her husband and best friend.

"And since then, I've never allowed myself to get close to someone, physically or emotionally…" She looked into his eyes. "But, even though I let you into my home, hating you, I seem to think you're the only person who can understand my hurt…" She pressed herself against him, urgently, desperately seeking closeness. "And maybe you understand how lonely I've been…"

Draco nodded; he knew just how she felt. He lowered his face so it was closer to hers, not breaking the eye contact with her.

"You're hurting me, Hermione…" he whispered.

"Oh, Merlin! I'm sorry, Draco!" she mumbled, moving back from him.

"I don't mind," he pulled her into him. "I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you. And now I think I should say thank-you…" His lips came down on hers, and she found, to her slight shock but not disappointment, that she was kissing him back.


	7. VII

Hermione felt, for the first time since Ron's death, that she was a woman once more. Not only in that she felt wanted, but in that Draco had awoken something dormant in her for three years. Even though she and Ron loved each other dearly, they had stopped making love when Hermione fell pregnant with their child. Five years after, Ron had died, and Hermione hadn't made love since. That was, until now. She knew what she had with Draco was irrational, ridiculously crazy, but she didn't really care.

_How did we get onto the bed?_ she thought.

* * *

Draco, looking at her beside him, was almost shocked at how wild she had become. He never thought she would be so dominating, but at the same time submissive, or that he would meet his sexual match in her. When he thought about it, she had completely dispelled all his preconceptions about her.

He stroked her cheek softly.

"You don't regret this, do you?" she asked, quietly.

"No, why, do you?"

"Merlin no!" she said. "But… Draco, how did we get on the bed?"

* * *

The next few days began with the same thing; Hermione asking how they got to the place which they woke up. Draco would chuckle, and kiss her softly. Then they would take it in turn to make breakfast.

Hermione sent an owl to work everyday, saying that she had not recovered from a nasty bout of 'flu, and she would come in when she was better, but to send her updates of what was going on. She was, after all, Head of Department.

_It was almost as if we were newlyweds_, Draco thought one morning, whilst making breakfast. _How odd that a thought like this could come to mind._ But he had to agree with that thought. They couldn't keep their hands off one another.

* * *

Hermione couldn't work it out. Why had she stopped hating him? She supposed it was when he broke down about his Italian fiancée which had showed her that he had changed. But it could have been the day he had cleaned, and cooked a wonderful meal for her. She wasn't sure. She ran a finger along the now non existent wound. She knew that she would have to say goodbye today. She wasn't sure she could do it.

She rose from the bed, and stood by the window.

"Hermione?" Draco murmured, sitting up in bed.

"Go back to sleep, love."

"Come back to bed?"

Hermione was unaware that she had started crying until she felt the warm tears on her chest. wiping her eyes quickly, she made her way back to bed.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked.

"Nothing." she lied.

"No, there's something. Tell me." Draco stroked her arm. Hermione took a deep breath and took his hand in hers.

"Well, I told you that your wound would take about a week to heal, and that you had to stay with me until it healed, and now you're going to leave. I don't know if I can go back to being lonely. Not after this…"

"Oh, Hermione! Do you want me to go?"

"Of course not, Draco. But, do you want to go?"


	8. VIII

He thought about it. He loved her company, everything about her was amazing, and he really wanted to stay. Yet something was keeping him from doing just that. _What is wrong with you? You want to stay, don't you? You have nothing to return to the Mansion for, after all, _he thought. _I don't want to hurt her… Since when did I become soppy? I have to tell her something, I owe her that much._

"This… Us… It's not right. As much as I want to convince myself, this isn't right. I'm sorry."

Hermione looked at him, dumbfounded. It took her a few moments to begin to form words. _What does he mean? It was right when he was holding me, and kissing me, but now it's not right? How could he say things like that? And, for Merlin's sake, how did he manage to look so attractive even when he's hurting me?_

"Okay… You better go then…" she said finally. Draco rose from the bed, and found a pullover and some jeans. He began to pick them up.

"Those are Ron's. Leave them here." Hermione said coldly, not looking at him. "I'm sure you can Apparate to that mansion of yours with nothing on."

Draco turned to look at her.

"Why are you being like this?"

"Being like what, Draco, dear?" Hermione said, trying not to sound hurt. "I let you desecrate the bed that my late husband and I made love in, and you want to steal his clothes too?"

"Desecrate?" Draco walked towards her. "Hermione, look at me. Five minutes ago you were asking me to stay here, now look at you!"

Hermione's gaze was fixed firmly on the bed sheets. Draco sat down beside her, and turned her face so her eyes were now looking into his.

"I don't know what's gotten into you, but quite frankly, if you want me to go, I will."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Hermione turned her head again and sighed angrily. Using the Summoning charm, the red pullover and jeans were at her side. "I want those returned to me as soon as you arrive at the mansion, is that understood? Now get dressed and go."

"Hermione, you don't have to be like this!"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not being like anything. Now would you kindly get dressed and go before I hex you." Her voice was shaky. _Hold it together, Granger. Don't cry. You don't need him._

"Fine. I'll have my house elf bring them, after they've been washed thoroughly. Merlin forbid they should have any trace of Malfoy on them." Draco paused. "Where are the clothes I arrived here in?"

"I threw them in the rubbish. They were all tattered and ripped anyway, so I assumed, being a spoilt little rich boy, you wouldn't need them. Now, if you've quite finished I'd like to be left alone, in peace and quiet."

_Spoilt little rich boy? I may be rich, but I was never spoilt. If anyone is spoilt, it's her! We always had to do things her way. _He wanted to say these things to her. Instead, he bit his tongue.

"Goodbye, Hermione." There was no reply. Draco sighed and Disapparated.


	9. IX

For the next few weeks, Hermione's home was very quiet. Normally, the WWN would be on as she worked, but there was nothing. Disturbing silence reverberated around all the rooms. Even more disturbing was the fact that Hermione had taken to cleaning everywhere.

Draco's house elf had still not returned Ron's clothes. Hermione was very unhappy about this, and had thought of visiting him to retrieve them many times. The thought, however, of walking in on something she didn't want or need to see was what changed her mind every time.

She had not been into work since Draco had arrived at her home. Thankfully, her Department were very understanding, and, telling them she was grieving over the loss of a family member, was told to take as much time off as needed. She wasn't grieving over Draco, she told herself. She just didn't want to see people at this present moment in time.

During one of her cleaning sessions, she went upstairs. She had let herself go in the past two weeks. Her clothes, instead of being inside the laundry basket, were scattered everywhere. Takeaway boxes, another sign of her laziness, lay scattered over the floor. Summoning a black sack, she began to put all the pizza boxes, Chinese takeaway boxes and the like inside.

That done, she began to pick up the clothes. She made two trips to the laundry basket. She checked under her pillow, in case she had thrown anything under it. She saw something; a familiar looking green pullover. Beside it, black trousers. She pulled them towards her. As she lifted them to her face. They still smelt like Draco.

* * *

In Malfoy Manor, all was quiet but for one sound; Draco's voice loud and raging at the house elves.

"CAN'T YOU DO ANYTHING RIGHT?"

"Trixy is very sorry master Malfoy, sir. She was sure master said Miss Baker."

"BRING ME THE PARCEL AT ONCE, AND THEN GET OUT OF MY SIGHT." Draco slumped into a chair in his private chambers.

For the past two weeks, his stupid house elves had tried to deliver Ron's clothing back to Hermione. _If she'd had house elves, she never would have started S.P.E.W_, he thought. It was the same thought he had had every day since the elves had messed up the delivery. In fact, he ended up thinking about her with whatever he did. If he read a book, he wondered if she had read it, what she had thought, if she could recommend any of the same style. If he ate chicken and mushroom pie, he thought of the night when he had cooked for her for the first time. None of his thoughts were not about her in some way, shape or form, and he was desperate for it to stop hurting every time he did.

Trixy returned, her hands heavily bandaged, a parcel in hand.

"Here… here is master's parcel, sir."

"Never send a house elf to do a wizard's work…" Draco muttered, taking the parcel from her. "That is all. You can go now."

The house elf seemed only too happy to oblige. When she had left, Draco took a deep breath, and Apparated.

* * *

Hermione was a mass of tears when she heard a knocking at her door.

"Go away," she said. "I don't want visitors."

The knocking persisted.

"GO AWAY!"

Whoever was at her door was very persistent. Wiping her eyes, she took the sodden green pullover with her.

"ALRIGHT, I GET THE PICTURE!" she said, angrily, as she descended the stairs.

Had she have known he was standing behind the door, she never would have answered.

"What do you want?" she asked coldly, the green pullover out of sight.

"To…" Draco seemed to be unable to talk. Her cheeks were tear-stained, and tears were still falling from her eyes. He stepped forward and wiped them away with his thumb. The two were standing very closely in a small doorway. "I came to bring this back…" he said, handing her the parcel. "There was a letter on the top, but as I'm here, I can tell you face to face."

Hermione looked at him.

"Are these Ron's things? Why are they so late?"

"Yes… they're his things. Can I explain everything now?"

Hermione lifted an eyebrow. "I suppose. You'd better come in." As he came in, he brushed past her, causing the green pullover to fall out of her hands. She promptly cursed, which made Draco turn to see what had happened. Hermione cursed again.


	10. X

Hermione picked up the pullover swiftly.

"I thought that went in the rubbish?"

"So did I. I found it today."

"Why is it wet?"

"Can we forget about that? I believe you were telling me what you're doing here, and why Ron's clothes are two weeks late."

_I came here to tell you I want to stay with you. I don't want to be without you; _he longed to say, but instead, muttered something that sounded very much like "I missed you".

"What was that?" Hermione wasn't sure if she'd heard correctly.

"I said, I came because my sodding house elves are stupid, and before you defend them, I gave them the address every time."

"I didn't sound like that to me. It sounded like 'I miss you.'"

"No it… Okay, so I missed you."

"So why go in the first place?"

"Because I was…"

"You were what?"

"I was… scared, okay? I was scared."

"Of what?"

"Loosing you like I did Anna-Maria…"

Hermione stood up, and sat beside him. She took his hand in hers.

"That was during the war. That's over now. I'm not going anywhere."

"Are you sure?" His free hand touched her cheek. "I couldn't go through it again, I really couldn't."

"You won't have to; as long as you promise me you won't be going anywhere."

* * *

The lounge was a nicer place than it had been for months. The WWN was on, the fire in the fireplace was actually on, and Hermione wasn't working. Instead, she and Draco sat on the sofa, each reading a book quietly to themselves, both very cosy. Hermione's head rested on Draco's shoulder. Draco's head rested on that of Hermione's.

The WWN started playing a slow piece of music. It was so enchanting, entrancing, that Hermione's foot began to sway as she read. Draco, noting this, rose. He put his book down on the coffee table, and took Hermione's hand in his.

"May I have this dance?"

Hermione smiled, and set her book down.

"You may," she said as she rose. "I haven't danced for an age…"

Draco placed his hands on her hips, as she draped hers over his shoulders. They began swaying to the music.

"I've been a complete idiot, haven't I?"

"No, you haven't! It's perfectly rational to be scared, love."

"I still think I've been an idiot."

"shush now," she whispered, pressing her lips against his.

* * *

Hermione woke up to find her limbs tangled with those of Draco, his blonde hair flopping over his eyes. Untangling herself from him, she kissed his collarbone.

Getting out of bed, she began to make her way downstairs.

"'Mione?" came Draco's voice.

"What, love?"

"Come back to bed."

"What about your breakfast?"

"What are were having?"

"Sausages, eggs and bacon."

"Can't they wait?" he asked as she sat on the edge of the bed.

"You need to keep your strength up, love."

"True, you're too much to keep up with sometimes love." he smirked at her.

"I won't dignify that with a response," she said, but kissed him briefly.


End file.
